


Promittere Dextram

by orphan_account



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Adult Seungri, But maybe not that platonic, Jiyong is underage here kay, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Romance, Teenage Jiyong, There will be fluff too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Seungri has been walking a tightrope all this time, and his eyes are too busy to see where he’s at when Jiyong runs into him. The collision eventually changes something fundamental inside the man, shifting his perception not only towards his own life, but also his oneself. But Jiyong isn’t someone to stay for long enough, for he’s been floating around, trying to reach his destination.





	1. I. To Collide — 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are 3 parts in total: I. To Collide; II. To Stay; and III. To Promise.
> 
> A gift for Mi.  
> Forever edited and beta-ed.  
> Seungri-centric. The flow and pace will be really slow.

 

**1**

There was nothing but the sound of his rubber sole scraping against the concrete pavement. Amidst the silence engulfing them—after all, it was 2:00 A.M.—the sound was echoed by the walls, and what was supposed to be a quiet noise became loud enough for two pairs of ears to hear.

Seungri glanced at the other silhouette, moving as quiet as his. Still without a sound, his eyes observed how strange their shadows faded only to emerge once again from the other direction each time they walked—they went further from one post light, standing tall on their right, before approaching another one. The man slipped his hands into the front pocket of his jacket while returning his gaze to the end of the alley, where he knew that he’d be greeted by the familiar sight of the quiet street, probably only disturbed by a few drunk men vomiting on the sideways and a car or two passing by. Across the alley was where his apartment building stood tall. With only a few meters ahead, Seungri knew he finally had to talk to _him,_ whether he’d like it or not.

 _Or…_ the man squinted his eyes, still walking at the same pace with the thought of how refreshing a warm shower before going to bed would be in mind, _I can just leave him outside._ He felt the tail of his lips curled up slightly once the familiar sense of relief grew inside his chest, feeling satisfied with that idea. _Yes, I can leave him. No need to talk to him_. Barely hiding his smile, Seungri lowered his head slightly. _No need to talk him anyway…_ the little voice inside his head reminded him once again right at the moment when he was no longer in the confinement of the small alley.

Because what was the stranger for him? Whatever that would happened to him was never Seungri’s business and _that one_ was… purely a coincidence; something unintentional; a twist of fate he never asked for; a decision he recklessly made in a split second and he promised that he’d _never_ do it again.

But every action humans did always had an effect, regardless of the amplitude. Butterfly effect; that was what people used to describe this phenomenon.

That was probably what Seungri’s unconsciousness finally realized once he noticed that the boy was still behind him as the glass door closed. How he managed to snuck into the apartment building right before the door closed and the lock worked without a sound was clearly a mystery, but Seungri was too preoccupied with something else when a pair of dark brown orbs were staring straight back at him.

Seungri, one head taller than the teenager, could see the dirt staining the boy’s face clearly. It looked especially dirty on his left cheek, looking plainly red under the bright light—it was no blushing as the freshness of the scruffs obviously showed him what the brick wall had done to the skin. The lips formed a smug smirk on the young face and as the mouth parted a little, these words were rolling out so smoothly, spoken in a mocking tone: “As an adult, you’re not really smart, are you?”

“Fuck,” was the first thing ever Seungri said—or _hissed_ , to be precise—to the teenage boy.

“Whoa, Uncle,” the younger guy’s dark orbs were gleaming. The smirk on the boy’s young face widened, but the stare from his eyes remained cold. “Such an exemplary adult you are, huh?” While fixing the position of the strap of his old backpack, the eyes didn’t waver at all.

Seungri couldn’t hold it anymore. The man clicked his tongue; the annoyance emerging inside him was directed more towards himself than the boy he was staring at. But still, he said nothing about the situation. _Well…_ his eyes scanned the stranger’s expression for a few seconds. There was a strange feeling clenching his chest tightly from the inside—all kind of unfamiliarity always left him uncomfortable—but the headache from sleep deprivation he had been suffering from for the past three days reminded him why he came home early that night.

After all, the boy didn’t look dangerous at all—if he was, he would’ve never been standing in front of Seungri the way he was doing right there and right then. And Seungri could only wish that this problem would get rid of itself once the morning came, just like how it had always been all the time—only this time, his problem apparently could walk and breathe just like any human could do.

Still without saying any single word, the taller man turned on his heel. And from the sound of footsteps muffled by the navy blue carpet underneath their feet, he knew that the boy, again, was following him.

 

.

 

**2**

Seungri’s finger immediately pointed at the gray couch sitting in his living room. “Cou—”

Another body, however, had plopped down on the velvet-upholstered couch with a loud noise following. “Awesome!” A grin was carved on his face, wide enough to expose the pinkish gum too.

The elder’s brows met in the middle, knitted in a plain disapproval—it wasn’t the most expensive couch, but it did cost him not only a little. “You should leave in the morning.”

But the boy didn’t seem to heed him as he continued making himself comfortable on the couch. Earlier, he even didn’t bother to tidy up his sneakers once they entered Seungri’s apartment. A few moments later, the teenager had curled up on Seungri’s couch when he seemingly finally noticed the presence of his host; half of his face was nearly hidden, pressed against his folded arm. The other side, the one where the cheek scraped against the rough surface of brick wall about an hour before, was still red and exposed to the air blowing from the air conditioner.

Seungri was taking off his jacket then undoing the top button of his shirt when he noticed a pair of the same dark orbs looking at him in silence. The body, lying on his couch and wrapped in a black coat obviously too large for the boy, moved up and down calmly each time he breathed in and out. His eyes scanned the stranger, and if he hadn’t noticed it before, he finally did it right then: the boy wasn’t a homeless.

Unlike boys of his age, the one who was lying down on Seungri’s gray couch didn’t seem to choose his outfit because of what was fashionable. The black coat had shown the sign of fading and the jeans were pretty loose compared to what was trending recently—the latter also had the obvious sign of wear that Seungri believed wasn’t because they were intentionally made so. Meanwhile, the moss green backpack abandoned on the floor wasn’t fully loaded, indeed, but the man didn’t need to inspect it to guess what was inside.

 _Obviously a teenage runaway_ , Seungri quietly headed towards the bathroom, feeling somewhat relieved. _An easy problem, it is._ His hand reached for the medicine cabinet hidden behind the vanity mirror and grabbed a bottle of aspirin and a box of first aid kit. _He’ll start missing his home even in less than 24 hours…_

The boy was still lying sideways in the same position when Seungri returned to the living room and approached him. The younger’s eyes didn’t cease staring at the man, but the look beamed was no longer as cold as before. Seungri could feel it in his nerves, sending messages to his brain urgently. And only a moment later, his hunch was confirmed to be true.

His Pi Coffee Table was the only one between them. Seungri returned the stare for a little while before he placed the white plastic box on the table. A quiet sigh escaped from his mouth as he threw his gaze and returned to his bedroom.

Forget about the warm shower; Seungri only wanted to drink his aspirin and slept.

 

.

 

**3**

Seungri’s life had always been comprised of a series of routine. The man had learnt that establishing a habit to follow every day helped him a lot in achieving his own peace. There was nothing unexpected; everything had been planned beforehand. The routine kept him on track he dared not abandon for it would make sure that his life was just like everyone else’s, thus avoiding any uncertainties that might bring him… _unwanted_ business.

That was why he would always wake up exactly at 6:00 A.M. every day, be it weekdays or weekend, no matter how late he went to bed the night before. And it was Sunday morning when he opened his eyes and the digital bedside clock sitting on his nightstand showed the right time. The alarm was splitting the silence in his bedroom, but that didn’t last long enough once the quietness claimed the space once again as his hand found the right button.

His head still ached, although the pain had lessened greatly. The calendar on Seungri’s phone showed him that he was free that day, and he finally let out a loud sigh, full of relief. Extra sleep hours were what he desperately needed, given there were only 24 hours left until Monday when he had to return to his cubicle to work just like everybody else.

There was a deep growl coming from his stomach when the man finally got out of his bed, still in the same shirt he had been wearing since the previous night. But the hunger wasn’t an urgent matter for it could always wait to be tended. He quickly undid all the buttons and took off the jeans, leaving him nothing but a clean white wife-beater shirt and shorts covering his body. Silently, he stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his head.

It always started with a spine stretching and ended with bicycle crunch as his morning continued with a small exercise routine. He couldn’t afford to go to the gym—money wasn’t the problem, though. Getting lean was never what he wanted, let alone getting ripped. He was never the kind of guy who would’ve gone to a gym and had a bottle of protein shake in hand wherever he went to. All he wanted was to feel and be healthy, and his morning routine, along with a short walk to his office, had sufficed.

When the feeling of stickiness on his body was no longer disturbing him, swapped with the freshness after shower, the kitchen was where he immediately went to; a small bowl of strawberries and a glass of milk were what he was having in mind. However, a pair of dark brown eyes that quickly met him, along with the low sound coming from the TV, soon reminded him the problem he should get rid of that morning.

The man, his fingers were running through his damp black hair, could barely swallow the growl back into his throat once he remembered that _the boy_ _was still in his apartment_.

A mutter of, “Morning,” coming from the other guy in the living room broke their silence and the boy quickly returned his stare to the TV. He was sitting on the sofa with his knees bent up, hugged under his arms, and no longer wore his oversized black coat. Only a sleeveless shirt—it might’ve always been gray, although Seungri wasn’t sure—cladding the skinny figure.

Seungri didn’t reply the greeting; he merely crossed his arms across his chest and couldn’t help but think that he probably could break the teenager’s back easily if he had the chance.

The thin boy rested is chin on his knees, not saying any single word as his eyes were fixated at the colorful screen showing some scene from some Sunday morning cartoon. His dainty figure lightly swung from side to side and Seungri soon noticed that the fresh scratches on the teenager’s cheek were no longer as visible as before.

“Hey,” Seungri called, but the boy didn’t seem to hear him. The man cleared his throat and made another attempt. “Kiddo,” called him, “I’ve told you. You sh—”

But another voice quickly cut him. “You should let me stay here.” Despite spoken in a low tone, there was a firmness in each word, as if what the younger had just told Seungri was something bound to happen naturally.

 _The fuck is this kid talking about?_ The corner of Seungri’s lips twitched; he just couldn’t believe what he heard from the boy, who still found the cartoon more interesting than his own situation. Hesitantly, he put his foot in front of the other, approaching the stranger slowly.

The boy surely noticed his movement since he quickly raised his gaze when Seungri was only one step away from him. Their eyes, once again, met and the boy repeated the same words without bothering to change his position: “You should let me stay here.”

The twitch on the corner of his lips returned and Seungri couldn’t tolerate the situation any longer. “No,” the hiss escaped from his gritted teeth as the man grabbed the boy’s old backpack hastily. The nails were digging deeper in his palm while Seungri walked with big strides towards the door, opening it. “No,” the older man glared at the other, “You should leave, _kiddo_.”

None of them uttered any single word; the younger was still moving lightly side to side with his legs wrapped around his arms. Meanwhile, Seungri only grew more and more impatient in every passing second—he simply did _not_ like the situation he had been forced to be in. The older male opened his mouth, ready to shout at the boy, when the other one finally showed any sign of movement.

Every breath Seungri took felt heavy and heavier as the teenager’s slim figure grew closer. Their stare was still fixated on each other; the boy raised his head, standing right before the older man with his eyes squinted in a plain anger. But Seungri couldn’t care less for the other was never supposed to be there, meaning that Seungri should’ve never made _that_ stupid decision less than six hours before.

 _Last night was a mistake_ , Seungri shoved the backpack to the boy, _and mistakes should be fixed as soon as possible._ “Just go back to your parents and be a good kid,” the man spoke his words under his breath; he could see the boy’s nostril flaring, an obvious sign of the younger’s fury. Seungri didn’t stop, though. “Be grateful that you still have a home.”

The boy snatched the backpack harshly from him, hissing, “You know _nothing_ , Uncle,” and a thin line formed between his lips, pursed tightly. “You really aren’t smart, are you?”

Inclining himself closer towards the younger, Seungri breathed the heavy air out of his mouth, fanning the angry face before him. “Go,” his whisper quickly disappeared into thin air, yet his message didn’t.

A distance grew between them right away once the teenager took a step away from the man. His angry stare lingered for a moment until he finally turned his head, shifting his attention to the open door. Before the boy’s thin figure disappeared, his last words still managed to reach Seungri’s ear, telling him, “What you’ve just done’s nothing different than leaving me last night when that old man was trying to rape me, Uncle.”

Seungri slammed the door closed right away, but the boy’s voice refused to leave him alone in his own peace just as if he had never left at all.

 

.

 

**4**

A new message on his phone woke Seungri up that afternoon. It was from a blocked number, but the initial written at the end of the message was more than enough to tell him who the sender was.

_I’ll be there at 7. –D_

The message naturally arched Seungri’s brows upwards; the curiosity hit him at once. The other man rarely paid him a visit—they always met outside, and it was never after the sun set. And if he had to go to Seungri’s place during the dinner time…

 _Well_ , Seungri tossed his phone and dragged his legs lazily to the bathroom. _It’s not like it’ll be the first time, though…_ The mirror felt cool against his fingers when he opened his medicine cabinet. The capsule quickly disappeared in his mouth; Seungri didn’t bother drinking water to help him swallow the aspirin. Water ran down from the faucet and the man cupped it inside his palms, bringing it to his face. After a few quick splashes, he found a face of a man staring back at him through the looking glass.

He would turn 35 this December, meaning that he had been living the life he was having for almost 13 years. But he knew better that it was only a fraction of life for the people to see and believe; a cocoon he had built and maintained for years and years of hard work so he could always easily slip off the radar without anyone noticing.

One thing he was still unsure, though, was who the man looking straight back at him was. Which one who built the case, and which one who filled in the hollow beneath the shell? If he had someone to ask, she or he would quickly pointed out that it was Seungri’s own reflection on the mirror he was looking at and the man was asking a silly question. And that was why Seungri, knowing better that it wasn’t the answer he had been looking for, could only keep that question to himself (or maybe that was the answer he didn’t ever want to hear).

In less than 15 minutes later, the man was seen walked out from his apartment building and greeted by noises people called as the sound of life, buzzing inside his auditory system just as if a fly was living inside his head. It was the end of March and the weather was still too cold; there was still no sign of spring, but Seungri couldn’t care less. He continued walking, joining in the swarm of people who went downtown for entertainments.

 _Aren’t they pitiful?_ His mouth forced a smile when his eyes met an old lady who greeted him with a warm smile—a kid, probably her grandchild, was talking to her in his loud, cheery voice. _Trying so hard to deny that weekend’s going to be over…_

The Chinese food restaurant around the corner was usually his destination for lunch (and of course, some takeaways for dinner) every Sunday, but it’d be different that particular Sunday for _that man_ would come to his place during his dinner time. When it came to _him_ , Seungri should have something different, and the Japanese restaurant two blocks away would be the perfect choice—they could deliver for dinner later. Plus, he happened to crave for some udon and sashimi.

 

.

 

**5**

There was no ringing from the doorbell, but it was two knocks on the door that marked the arrival of the man. One knock was exactly one second after the other one. The panel swung open and revealed another man. An ivory turtleneck hugged his body in a perfect fit, flaunting the man’s well-built body. A merry greeting, “Hey!” spoken in a soft, husky voice, came along with a wide smile that turned his small eyes into a pair of crescents. His light blonde hair glowed, bouncing the soft golden light it captured from the ceiling lamp in the corridor.

Seungri gestured the other man to enter his apartment and closed the door immediately—the muffled thud as the panel closed was echoed amidst the quiet living room. His visitor didn’t take a long time to make himself comfortable; a glass of water had settled in his hand and something that seemed like a serving of salmon nigiri was in the other one as the man stepped out from the kitchen. None of them said any single word—Seungri always waited for the man to say something first, while the other one was still busy chewing the food—until a few moments later once both of them were sitting on the gray couch, not too close but not too far from each other either.

“Sorry,” the blonde hiccupped, flashing a small apologetic smile, and gulped down the remaining liquid inside the glass he was still holding—it was empty when the guy put it on the table. However, his attention was immediately distracted by the sight of white plastic box sitting next to the empty glass.

Seungri, noticing the same thing, reached for the box and returned it to the bathroom.

The guest was still smiling when he returned, seating himself down on the same spot next to the other man. But he _always_ smiled, hence Seungri completely had no idea if the other was really smiling or if it was just out of habit.

“Got a visitor?” was the only question the man asked while fixing his sitting position—his back leaned against the comfort of the couch’s backrest, his legs opened shoulder-wide.

“Yeah…” Seungri shrugged, also resting his back on the backrest, and murmured his affirmation. “Sort of.”

The light-colored strands moved lightly, following the movement of the head, and the blonde was still smiling his usual smile. “Very… _unusual_.”

Seungri could feel the stare the other man was giving him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say anything about it. After all, what should he say? He could barely remember that a teenager he (unwillingly) saved from a rape attempt the night before had spent the night at his place, and spending almost the whole day in his bedroom to pay off all the sleeping hours he had lost during the past few days made him unaware of the first aid kit he still left on the coffee table. Was there anything to explain, when it wasn’t likely that he would ever see the boy again?

The TV was on, loud enough to break the stillness surrounding them. The man sitting next to Seungri cleared his throat. “Well… let’s go straight to the topic, shall we?” And a moment later, there was a brown envelope in the blonde’s hand. “I’m sorry for distracting you from your dinner, but… you know, there are… _needs._ ” He stole a glance at the black-haired man, who only gave him a curt nod. “Everything’s inside this envelope. You have 72 hours to answer, so consider this carefully, okay? All I know is that it’s just like usual; drop it and leave.”

The brown envelope moved to Seungri’s hand—it was surprisingly thin and there was barely any sign of lump. And although the man already knew that nothing was written on both sides, he still made sure anyway, probably out of habit. “Let’s say it’s an OK; how will I know that I’m safe?” A few moments passed yet the blonde didn’t give him any response. Seungri raised his stare. “Daesung?”

The said man blinked once… twice and returned Seungri’s stare. Again, the same curve emerged on his face, forming a smile drawn by his lips. “You’ll know,” was the only answer he gave.

Seungri nodded again, returning his eyes to the envelope in his hand. Everything was often this hazy whenever Daesung requested for a meeting at his place—it wasn’t like Seungri had expected the opposite anyway. _But making sure would never do any harm, right?_ “When?”

“You’ll be informed later.”

“I understand the ‘drop it and leave’ part, Daesung,” the distance between Seungri’s eyebrows narrowed. “Remember that I’ve been doing this for long enough. So… what will it be?”

“A package. As always.”

“Nonsense,” Seungri scoffed, squinting his eyes and gave the blonde a look of disbelief.

However, the other man only chuckled in amusement while patting Seungri on his left shoulder lightly. “I don’t even know anything, Lee Seungri. The envelope’s still sealed. Everything’s in there. You know my job’s only deliver it to you!”

A big lie; Seungri knew that, but he didn’t retort. On the other hand, it wasn’t like he actually cared about what kind of package it was—the instruction was clear and simple: drop it and leave. “I’ll drop by to give you an answer when I’ve got the time.”

“Good,” the blonde gave him a firm squeeze on shoulder before raising his body off the couch. “You have a delivery tomorrow, right?” Seungri’s head moved up and down, and Daesung responded with a smile, as always. “Well… I should leave now. I hope you’ll do this; I received this only this morning and wanted to keep this for you first.”

Seungri answered with a low, brief hum. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s okay, I’ll see myself out.” The blonde was pulling the door open when he suddenly glanced over his shoulder, calling, “Seungri?”

“Yes?”

“The sushi tasted great, by the way.”

“Yeah. I know. It should’ve arrived in your place now.”

The smile stretched, turning into a grin wide enough to reveal a series of white teeth. “Thank you!” shouted Daesung in joy, and that was the last thing Seungri heard from the blonde for the rest of the night. The familiar muffled thud was heard once again and the TV was still on when Seungri ripped the envelop open carefully on one side. There was only a sheet of paper and a brief message written on it.

Minutes earlier, once Daesung showed him the envelope, Seungri had already known what his answer would be. And the numbers, easily noticed amidst lines and lines of letters, only confirmed the decision the man had made. His mouth formed a small smirk—Seungri just couldn’t hold it—when he slipped the paper, folded once again, inside the envelope, changed the channel to anything to watch but a sappy drama, and resumed his dinner.

 

.

 

 


	2. I. To Collide — 2

 

**6**

The clock showed the right time when Seungri opened his eyes. His head no longer hurt him and the man couldn’t help but release a long sigh of relief—starting the week with a headache was absolutely the least expected thing to happen to himself. There were at least two hours for him to get ready to work and it was more than enough, even though Seungri was being lazy—yet, he wasn’t. His office building, a travel company where he worked at in finance department, was only 15 minutes’ walk, or 5 minutes away if he took the bus. But the time spared was enough for him to cook his breakfast and lunch, and enjoyed a glass of milk every morning with the TV on.

Just like any other day, he continued his morning with the same morning exercise routine; spine stretching, deep knee bends, calf raises, dips, push-ups, leg raises, and bicycle crunch. It never took him more than 20 minutes to clean and groom himself afterwards, shaving his face clean from the 5 o’clock shadow. A few minutes before 7:00 P.M., he had been seen standing in his small galley kitchen and ready to cook.

Seungri never claimed himself as a good cook; he simply _could_ cook. This was a habit he had developed ever since he moved out of his parents’ house, almost 20 years ago, when he attended high school. Being a student with limited financial support—the main reason why he had been spending his last teenager years juggling from one part-time job to another—he definitely had to be frugal. The repetition had absolutely become a habit; years later, he gave himself the privilege of dining out only once every week, even though money was no longer an issue. Besides, bringing a lunchbox always saved him enough time at work so he could finish his work on time, freeing him from all the hassle of having to socialize with his co-workers every lunch break.

Time was money; that was what people kept saying, and that was nothing but an absolute truth to Seungri, especially when he shouldn’t leave his office late that particular Monday.

His breakfast—a plateful of two poached eggs and half a loaf of whole-wheat bread, along with a glass of fresh milk—was finally served when the sound of three knocks on the door disrupted the silence in the apartment. The man tilted his head slightly to the left, his eyebrows raised. _Did I tell anyone to come here this morning?_ The apron was no longer hugging Seungri’s body when the man answered, “Wait a minute!”

The face of a guy was recognized quickly when Seungri peeked from the peephole. _Oh. Him._ His face flashed a frown, which quickly disappeared once the door swung open inwards. “Yes, Jinwoo?”

The man named Jinwoo flashed a smile—Seungri could always sense how genuine the smile was, which made him feel even more uneasy. That was why he wanted to avoid the said man as often as possible, fully aware of how _always_ kind-hearted his neighbor was. “Sorry. I must’ve disturbed you…” Seungri shook his head and Jinwoo smiled once again. “I found this in front of your door yesterday. I’ve called you but there was no answer. I’m really sorry… because I had to hurry to my dad’s place and it was too late last night when I returned. I hope—”

When Seungri followed the direction the other eyes were pinned at, the words coming from his neighbor’s mouth were quickly muffled by the confusion swelling inside him. It was a journal in Jinwoo’s hand. The cover was plain and black; the overall condition of the cover alone indicated how frequent the owner of the book used it, maybe to write or read, maybe to do both. And suddenly, the image of a teenager he last saw 24 hours ago flashed before him, staring back at him with his head raised high and anger scorching behind the eyes.

“Seungri?” Jinwoo’s soft voice called him.

The said man flinched and once again, his stare was met by his neighbor’s doe eyes. “No,” he cleared his throat and swallowed a lump down into his throat. The glimpses of the teenager dashing before his eyes hitched his breath. “No. This… isn’t mine.”

Jinwoo’s lashes fluttered as the man gave Seungri a confused look. “You sure?”

A small nod confirmed Seungri’s answer. “Not mine.”

“Not even someone you know?”

Seungri moved his head curtly, again.

“Uhhh…” Creases were forming on Jinwoo’s forehead as his eyebrows met in the middle. “I… I didn’t mean to push you, but I flipped the pages randomly and… read the latest entry…” The book opened and Jinwoo showed a brief writing, jotted down on a new page. The date written there was the day before and on the next line, the messy handwriting read:

_Apartment #404 (can’t remember the address.)_

_Uncle still doesn’t open the door._

 

Seungri barely resisted himself from cussing upon noticing the number written there; it was _his_ apartment. _That boy…_ He gritted his teeth, his nails buried deep in his palm as he clenched his fist tightly.

The writing soon disappeared once Jinwoo closed it. “I just… I thought this was your… nephew’s? He had to visit you yesterday and y—”

“Yeah. I guess it’s my… _nephew’s_. I was away since morning; that’s probably he missed me. Thanks,” reaching out his right hand, the palm unclenched, Seungri forced his lips to stretch upwards even only slightly. “Thanks. I’ll give it to him later.”

A minute later, Seungri had returned to his dining table with his eyes fixated to the first page of the journal. The man read the same handwriting on the yellowish page:

 

_Nobody but Kwon Jiyong is allowed to read this journal. (Or I’m gonna beat yo sorry ass for breaching my privacy.)_

 

 _Well, kiddo…_ his chin was moving up and down, his mouth was full of the first bite of his bread. _You should’ve put Jinwoo’s and my name too_. Glancing at the wall clock, Seungri counted mentally that there were about 30 minutes before he had to leave to work.

 

.

 

**7**

**_13 February 20xx_ **

_Aunt visited again. Couldn’t she stop faking? She never cares._

_Besides, the little animal she claimed as her son was really annoying and noisy._

**_20 March 20xx_ **

_Your smile is shining gold,_

_But the way you ~~talk~~ speak, feel so cold_

_As times go by, you’re becoming more like me_

_Sometimes, I feel like karma is running after me_

_People smile with an effort, hiding the truth_

_As if they’re happy,_

_While hiding the lie in the word “love”_

_As if it will be forever (1)_

**_9 May 20xx_ **

_Saw this boy when I was at the café. He asked me when my shift would end and we met afterwards (it was almost 10pm fyi). It was tiring but he bought me jjajangmyeon so I couldn’t refuse. We didn’t talk much because… I don’t know. Maybe because it was obvious that he was trying to hit on me and I was too hungry and exhausted to even give him any single cucumber. Or eggplant. ~~Or my dick.~~ But he told me he’d meet me again tomorrow if I didn’t mind._

_ Of course _ _I would NOT mind, that’s what I told him. And as long as he bought me food again. Yep. I absolutely knew what my priority was._

**_10 May 20xx_ **

_I forgot that today I worked at the bookstore and it’s, like, the other side of the town. Good bye, free dinner. I will never forget you :’(_

**_29 July 20xx_ **

_Birthday in less than 3 weeks. Awesome._

**_4 August 20xx_ **

_I kept singing Katy Perry’s “Firework” the whole day and Jiwon flicked my forehead whenever I awed him with my amazing singing skill. Especially during the chorus. Dude, I definitely will give you a free pass to attend my concert for a lifetime!_

_Birthday in 2 weeks. Pro: I’ll be 15 this year, meaning that it’ll only take another 3 years for me to finally do whatever the fuck I want. Con: I’m going to be an adult sooner than Jiwon._

_FYI, Part-time jobs during summer are THE WORST. Even worst-er than Episode I and Jar Jar Binks combined._

**_15 August 20xx_ **

_Aunt came and told me that I could celebrate my birthday with her family. I scoffed and asked her if she had ever felt tired from pretending whenever we met. Of course I left her right away. I was (and still am) sick of seeing her ugly face._

_Miss Hyori called me to go to her office and asked me what cake I wanted to have for my birthday. I wondered if I could have a tower of hamburgers, but of course it’ll be impossible since there are 2 other ~~losers~~ kids who share the same birthdate as mine._

_Fuck I envy Jiwon so much because nobody here was also born at the same date (which is actually good, so there shouldn’t be anyone else who’s just like him.) But then again… we always celebrate the birthday of December boys during Christmas dinner. Fuck I envy Jiwon so much._

**_15 August 20xx (in my bed. sleepy as hell)_ **

_The summer when you and I were hot, it’s been too long. (1)_

**_18 August 20xx_ **

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! I’m 15 now. Hurray!_

_Aside from the awfully sweet chocolate cake Miss Hyori baked for us, today’s been awesome. Mr. Jung from the bookstore gave me a new notebook where I can jot down all the lyrics for my songs (too bad my other employers suck, but what can I expect? Adults. Pffftt.)_

_Aunt sent me gift money I immediately spent for new sneakers. Don’t judge me, okay? I NEED new shoes and it has nothing to do with the hatred I have towards her_

**_12 September 20xx._ **

_I asked Miss Hyori if she finally would allow me to audition. She still said no._

**_31 October 20xx_ **

_“1,000 years from now there will be no guys and no girls. Just wankers. Sounds great to me.” (Trainspotting; watching it after dinner. I’ll write my thoughts about this film tomorrow, btw.)_

_I ca—_

 

There was nothing left in his glass. Seungri closed the journal and cleaned the table—it was around 8:30 A.M. when he left his apartment. The journal was kept in a shelf, fitting snugly in a tight space amidst the other books.

 

.

 

**8**

It was five minutes before 9:00 A.M. when Seungri clocked in. The travel company leased the space from the 5th to 7th floor to operate and the finance department occupied the 6th floor. Seungri’s desk was placed near the window, allowing him to see the view of the outside if he glanced at his left. Sitting across him was his co-worker named Lee Chaerin, who was still talking to her best friend from insurance department, Park Dara. Chaerin’s eyes caught him when he arrived at his desk, and Seungri could only tell himself: _And here comes the noises…_

“Seungri!” Chaerin practically yelled at him; she could drag you to go shopping and party right after the office hour was over and still showed no sign of exhaustion, so it wasn’t really surprising to hear how loud her voice was when it was still in the morning. Her long hair, bleached and toned and dyed to ash gray, followed her movement as the woman whirled her chair. “Where were you last Saturday?”

The man didn’t answer, though. He merely turned on his computer and nodded politely when Park Dara greeted her before leaving them. But it was impossible to actually ignore Chaerin, especially when their desks were adjoined and they were sitting across one and another—not to mention how the woman really hated to be ignored. She was vocal, honest, and lively. Being around her often made Seungri wonder if she was really only two years younger than him.

“Oy, Seungri!” It was a different voice that called him this time, coming from a man who was now busy chewing something inside his mouth. “Right; where were you? Told you we’d be waiting for you at 8 in Chaerin’s place!” The man plopped down on his own chair, his desk was next to Seungri’s; Song Minho was his name.

“I’ve told you I wouldn’t come, right?” Seungri only murmured his answer as his eyes were fixated on the spreadsheet displayed by the monitor, paying more attention to the figures the system had updated throughout last weekend.

“Man, you just missed one hella party!” Minho continued chirping, not caring if his mouth was still full with whatever he was munching. “It was really one of the best ones in this city, which isn’t that surprising since this city’s freaking boring. But at least there were more than enough hot girls there, and I’m sure Chaerin was having a lot of fun with all the g—”

There were only simple ‘Hmm…’ ‘Oh?’ ‘I see…’ ‘Really?’ and ‘That’s great’ Seungri hummed without actually paying attention to what the other guy was telling him. And it wasn’t like Minho noticed his disinterest anyway, especially when Chaerin immediately butted in. Seungri hardly remember—but it wasn’t like he could care less—how long the one-way conversation lasted because his focus was eventually shifted to the work in his hand. None of the words his co-worker had said actually made it to his ear, except for one thing: “This city’s freaking _boring_.”

 _Boring_.

One blink and the columns and rows of figures were no longer what he was staring at. Rather, it was the busy street seen through the glass window, flocked with humans and cars. Sunlight showered the world, sharing its warmth, although it was doubtful if the people out there even noticed the warm light engulfing them or the chill wind greeting their face. Everything and everyone were moving swiftly, heading towards whatever their destination was. Each movement seemed automated, and Seungri could only scoff at the sight. _And this is what they call ‘life’…_

Funny, because Seungri completely understood that he was just like them.

And his Monday continued just like any other Mondays. Chaerin, Minho, and other people were talking; he only heard and there was almost nothing he could recall. He finished all the works due that day on time, not even one second earlier or later. During lunch break, he ate his lunchbox at his desk while scrolling through IKEA’s website, still deciding if he should install a new shelving unit in the guest room or not. Every two hours, he took a short break for about five minutes to stretch. He made his coffee twice: exactly after finishing his lunch and at 3:00 P.M. A water bottle he always left in the pantry was refilled every three hour, sitting on his desk and always within his reach. And it was only 15 minutes past 5:00 P.M. when Seungri could finally turn his computer off, collect his stuffs, and hand a printed document to Youngbae, his boss, before leaving the office.

 

.

 

**9**

It was exactly 8:30 P.M. when Seungri finished his dinner—the leftover was soon stored in a food container for his next morning’s breakfast. Once he finished doing the dishes and cleaning the table, the man immediately entered his room. The wardrobe was opened, but not for long enough for the door was soon closed after Seungri grabbed a black long-sleeved knitted top.

His legs were taking him to the door when he glanced around his living room when his stare landed on the shelf. Eyes automatically spotted the journal he put there earlier in the morning. Halting his steps, it was like something had forced him to stand still right at the center of the room. Something… possibly something similar to curiosity struck him; probably—just _probably_ —taking the journal with him wasn’t a bad idea at all.

And the book was safe inside his leather messenger bag.

Only several minutes later, the glass door in the lobby closed behind Seungri, who walked out of the apartment building and was greeted, once again, by the outside world. He stood there for a few moments, his hands were inside the pockets of his dark blue fleece coat, and suddenly, something was caught by the perimeter of his sight.

There was a man standing across the busy street. A long, oversized coat was hanging from his figure, and despite the hat that covered half of the stranger’s face, the churning inside Seungri’s stomach told him that the nameless person was staring at _him_. Seeing the figure whirled around and disappeared beneath the darkness of the small alley, flanked by another apartment building and an apothecary, the uneasiness grew more and more, forcing Seungri to snap at himself and move forward.

Because the fact that it was the same alley where _that_ boy followed him two nights before meant nothing… _right?_

 _That’s nothing, Seungri_ … Only one hand was inside the pocket as the other one dangled freely on Seungri’s side, swinging following his movement along with the bag. _You’re only making up things._ He had a job to complete that night and having his focus distracted was the least expected thing, for sure.

Walking eastward, he kept his pace to follow the people walking in front of him. No need to rush, but there was no need to slow down either. Once or twice, “Sorry,” was muttered whenever he bumped on stranger, although Seungri didn’t hear anything in return—those strangers would’ve had someone already waiting for them, probably for dinner at home or someplace else.

Seungri’s hazel eyes were looking around nonchalantly and captured the sight of colorful sign. ‘That Bar’ was what written there, from a bar two blocks away from his apartment—meaning he had been halfway towards his first stop. He couldn’t help but scoff at the name, even after years visiting the place pretty regularly for business. Glancing at the numbers shown on the watch wrapping around his left wrist, Seungri knew he had enough time to drop by and meet the blonde. _There’s still tomorrow, though…_ yet he told himself, passing by the place and thinking that he captured a glimpse of a familiar figure with light blonde hair inside the bar, sitting next to the window.

Once, one of his co-workers ran into him; her name was Jung Soojung, who was also in the same finance department although she handled the different matter. Judging from where she just came from, along with the paper bags in her hands, it had to be some emergency grocery shopping she just did.

“Where are you going to?” she asked, probably just out of politeness instead of curiosity.

“There,” Seungri gestured at the same supermarket—the only one that sold imported foods in the city—with his chin, still faking the smile on his face. “Running out of milk.” A lie.

But of course Soojung would believe him; first, they weren’t that close; second, there was no way _that_ Lee Seungri from finance would do something peculiar, right? And Seungri didn’t waste all those years building his image only to expect the opposite.

They parted ways not so long after, walking towards different directions. Seungri didn’t bother to look over his shoulder and quickly entered the supermarket, grabbed a box of milk (which he didn’t really need, actually, because he still had enough supply until Thursday in his fridge), and left the place after paying in cash.

Even amidst the nameless passersby, his eyes quickly found the same silhouette whose face was still concealed beneath the shadow casted by the hat. The gap between Seungri’s brows vanished once they met and a frown emerged on his face at once as the realization hit him in the least expected way.

_Someone’s following me._

It could be anyone. It could be two different people, wearing a similar outfit. It could be a coincidence. It could be—

_Someone’s following me._

It was a coincidence… a coincidence.

An invisible hand clenched his heart tightly, it was almost difficult to breathe in the chill air. Part of himself wanted to run towards the stranger, trying to prove to himself that he was only hallucinating. But the other one snapped, screaming voicelessly that he had to leave the place as soon as possible.

The latter won.

 

.

 

**10**

The weak golden light flickered outside, casting silhouette that danced out of still objects. The stillness was broken by the noise, made while the garage door opened automatically. Seungri had wasted another 15 minutes to take a detour, making sure that the same faceless and nameless man no longer followed him. Another glance over the shoulder and the empty alley was everything he was seeing. Clear.

His hand quickly found the switch and the garage was soon showered by the glaring white light. As expected, there was a van inside, the kind the delivery service companies always used to deliver the goods— _What am I thinking, huh?_ Seungri scoffed at himself. _I’m also doing the same business as them._

He opened the driver door and found a thick brown envelope sitting on the passenger seat. Without wasting any more time, the man tossed his leather bag into the van—it landed atop the envelope with a muffled thud—and got himself sitting behind the steering wheel. In a few minutes, the garage door closed and the black vehicle joined the others on the street. His next stop was near the border of the city, which should take him no more than 20 minutes’ drive.

A quick glance at the wing mirror, Seungri’s eyes didn’t spot anything that resembled the vague silhouette of the stranger who was _probably_ following him; Seungri, indeed _,_ was simply fabricating the illusion.

 

.

 

**11**

His instruction was, as always, brief and efficient: _Transport it to the rendezvous. Wait for the signal then leave_.

It was no more than 10 minutes past 10:00 P.M. when Seungri glanced at his watch—he had arrived in the meeting point since 10 and there was still nothing. It was not like he would miss anything either, because there was nothing but vast stillness surrounding him, like a pack of quiet predator ready to prey on him if he ever stuck even his finger out of the van. The only source of light that illuminated the space outside the van came from the headlamp, giving the man a glimpse of what kind of place he was currently at.

The meeting place was nothing but an abandoned farmhouse. The light beamed by the van’s headlamp fell at the front porch, raised a few meters from the ground below. Right at the perimeter of the light, Seungri could see a wooden rocking horse with a lot effort—he squinted his eyes so hard only to figure out the wooden horse’s face and couldn’t make up the rest.

Being alone in the darkness and stillness wasn’t something unfamiliar for Seungri during his years doing the job. Quite the contrary, it was what happened to him often, leaving him more than enough of time to be completely on his own—it wasn’t as frequent as drop-it-and-leave-it kind of job, though. Usually, he’d turn on the radio and listen to whatever was being broadcasted by one of his three preferred radio stations. But in some occasions in which he had to be trapped inside a clunker, he would just sit and try not to get himself killed by the boredom… unless it was too hot or too cold.

But that night was pretty different in its own way; he had an unopened box of milk and a journal he hadn’t finished reading earlier in the morning. A journal that belonged to someone named Kwon Jiyong—if Seungri remembered correctly—the one he immediately assumed as the stranger he met centuries before.

Only in a few moments later, the same handwriting was what Seungri was reading as the open journal sat on the steering wheel. It was chocolate milk the man was having, from a brand he wasn’t familiar to. The taste wasn’t that bad, although it did have too much sugar in it.

 

.

 

**12**

**_31 October 20xx_ **

_“1,000 years from now there will be no guys and no girls. Just wankers. Sounds great to me.” (Trainspotting; watching it after dinner. I’ll write my thoughts about this film tomorrow, btw.)_

_Today’s Halloween and Jiwon REALLY REALLY wore his lame ghost costume FOR REAL. You know. That clean white sheet draped over his lanky body. How old is he? 7? I really just can’t even._

**_05 November 20xx_ **

_“Remember, remember, the fifth of November,_

_The Gunpowder Treason and plot._

_I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason_

_Should ever be forgot.” (2)_

_Know what? I always feel so cool whenever I quote this one every 5 November (“shades on, watching the explosion from the front porch while sitting on the chair and drinking my cola” kind of cool)._

**_19 November 20xx_ **

_I really can’t wait anymore. Why does Miss Hyori keep insisting that “it’s not the time yet, Jiyong”????? I really want to audition, I want it so bad until I no longer care if I fail. I only want to see how far I can go._

**_20 November 20xx_ **

_Can’t a boy dream?_

**_22 November 20xx_ **

_Jiwon said something about running away. It’s not like he’s the one who wants to do this. He only mentioned something similar to “an overnight trip”. Something that will only take no more than two days and one night. We can think of something like I finally am willing to visit my aunt and stay at her place for a few days before returning here. Besides, I’ve saved up (what’s the point working at so many places if I can’t collect enough money, right?). Guess I have enough money to leave this place for a day or two… or even a week as long as I can find cheap lodging._

_Don’t you think that it’ll be so exciting too? I’ve never went further from the town boundary anyway and the tallest building I’ve ever seen is the five-story office building on the downtown._

**_1 December 20xx_ **

_It’s getting colder each day. Winter really is coming but luckily the bookstore is always warm. Mr. Jung offered me to add more shifts because Nana will quit two weeks later._

_Pros: bookstore is warm. Mr. Jung is cool and nice, and his wife always gives me food during lunch time. The money is good._

_Cons: …it’s not like I’m going to miss working at the Chinese restaurant, I guess._

**_5 December 20xx_ **

_“But pain is beautiful, it’s same as you.” (3)_

_Definitely not my story; so there was this customer: a lady, probably she was in her 30s. There was nothing about her, actually. She was as quiet as this small town and there was nothing about her that would spark curiosity—again, just like this town. Three books were what she gave me to scan and bag, all of them were recipe books. I was about to hand her the bag and her change when she finally said something to me._

_I couldn’t forget the look reflected in her eyes—they were gray with yellow ring. It was despair. It was desperation. It was gloom. It was as if the essence of her life had been sucked out, leaving her nothing but all the misery in life._

_“Don’t fall in love, kid,” was what she said to me, her voice was quiet and shaky. Perhaps, she cried her heart out before she decided that she needed new cooking books. “It’ll give you nothing but pain.”_

_I asked her, maybe out of my curiosity, “And why did you fall in love?”_

_“Because he was beautiful… and still is.”_

_She left only with the shopping bag in her hands. I kept the change._

**_12 December 20xx_ **

_Today was… peculiar. There was nothing weird, actually, or maybe that was how the day went in the morning. Things started to change once I was walking to the bookstore. It was just like any winter day, you know? The sky was bleak and gray, and the wind felt cold just like how it always was._

_But I looked up at the sky, then… well, I still don’t know how to describe this. I know this may be a nonsense but exactly at that time, I felt… different. There was one thing that came across my mind, and I still can’t brush it off even hours later:_

_ How would the sky look in other places? _

**_21 December 20xx_ **

_Today is Jiwon’s birthday, and Mr. Hwang, the owner of the bakery next to Mr. Jung’s bookstore, gave me a discount for a slice of red velvet cake. I bought him a new basketball jersey with the name and number of his favorite player. It’s a fake, of course, but he still likes it. That’s what matters, right?_

_LOL no. THAT’S FOR GIVING ME SPICY CHOCOLATE LAST WEEK, KIM JIWON. TASTE MY REVENGE! TASTEEEEEE!!!_

**_24 December 20xx_ **

_Same old ritual. Same ugly Christmas sweater from Miss Hyori (and as usual, Jiwon and I will donate it after New Year). Same chocolate bar from Jiwon. And same knitted scarf from Mrs. Jung._

_And same Christmas dinner, because we also celebrated Jiwon’s birthday (it was late. I know. But Miss Hyori always celebrates those having December birthday during the Christmas dinner. Can’t complain.) The food tasted great, though. Maybe because Mrs. Jung and Mrs. Lee helped the kitchen. There were roasted chicken, baked potato, roasted carrots with coriander and caraway, green beans… and of course, the black forest cake for dessert. I guess Miss Hyori finally found the right formula for the cake because it didn’t taste too sweet this time. Happy for her, because it’s (probably) her first success after all those sweet black forest cakes we’ve been having for years._

_We bought her a bottle of wine for Christmas gift. It’s not the best wine, but well… what can we expect from this small town?_

_But the dinner was also kind of different. Jaejin, the oldest boy, is finally 18 this month and during the dinner, he told us that he’d go to Seoul once February passed to attend some English course so he could work as a crew on a cruise ship. Miss Hyori has arranged everything through her family’s connection. Even she will go with him to help him move out._

_That’s unfair._

**_25 December 20xx_ **

_I barely slept the whole night and it was almost 5 when I went to the kitchen while carrying this journal (don’t ask me why, I don’t even know). As expected, there was almost nothing in the pantry; a box of milk, surprisingly unopened, was the only one I found._

_Then I noticed that it was snowing out there as I went to sit on the stool near the window. I opened it, wide enough to slip my right hand, and felt the cold snowflake against my palm._

_It’s decided. I’ll leave this town once February passes too._

 

Two light knocks on the window was more than enough to pull Seungri’s attention away from the journal he was reading. His eyes soon met an unfamiliar face—he had learnt that those faces weren’t supposed to be a part of his memory—drawing a stiff expression, so clear to see from the distance. Seungri closed the book, put it on the empty passenger seat next to him, and reached for the package. The side window lowered, the gap created was enough for the thick brown envelope Seungri slipped—a silly thought that the stranger would transform into a monster suddenly came across his mind. The stranger did the same, but it was a different brown envelope Seungri received.

Only in less than a minute, the van had rejoined the quietness of the empty road once again. But inside Seungri’s head, the man uneasily noticed that the quiet lingering there had a form and was lurking around the corner of his mind. Something kept poking him yet he didn’t know what it was… or _who_ it was.

 

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Lyrics from "Black" by G-Dragon (feat. Jennie Kim) (2013).  
> (2) Traditional rhymes recited on Guy Fawkes Night.  
> (3) Lyrics from "결국 (Without You)" by G-Dragon (feat. Rosé) (2012).


End file.
